And I See You Standing There, Wanting More From Me
by PoeticallyPathetic19
Summary: Sam and Dean can't quite seem to find where they stand with one another, they just know that one wants more than they're giving. Wincest, my dears. Its quite common with me.


-Note- This one is kind of random but it came to be at like 4 in the morning a few weeks ago, lol. And thanks to JJaneru it did not die because she knew exactly what I was talking about! -sends her so much love- I kind of like the way this one turned out...the title is from Nelly Furtado's song "Try" There was just something about some of the lyrics that were just begging to be used. Hope ya like it! Send love! 3 -Note-

"Yeah, all right, got it." Dean hangs up the phone and glances at his brother. "Pull off the next exit."

"Why?" Sam asks, returning Dean's look.

"Cause Dad thinks we got the vampire's trail."

"How?" He's always so damn full of questions. Can't he ever just go with it? If for no other reason than to spare Dean and give him some peace?

He shrugs, "I don't know, he didn't say."

That's not answer enough for Sam and wordlessly he hits the gas, that familiar look of irritation and determination coloring his features, speeding past Dad's tuck. He pulls ahead, turning the car sideways on the road and forcing him to stop. Something Dean's sure he's wanted to do a thousand times before. Something Dean's wanted to do a thousand times before, with Dad and Sam.

He watches, half stunned, half horrified as Sam jumps out of the car. Dad following suit. Like this night isn't long enough, they have to start this.

"Oh, crap. Here we go," Dean mutters, jumping out of the car himself. "Sam!"

Dammit, he needs him to get his ass back in the car now, that is if Sam wants to keep his ass and not have it handed to him. Because Dean sure the hell doesn't want that for him, though he's not opposed to handing Sam his ass later if he doesn't start listening to him.

"What the hell was that?" Dad yells. Dean can see he's restraining himself, can see that Sam's pretty much doing the same. They're more alike than either will ever admit.

"We need to talk," Sam announces as if it's oh so obvious.

"About what?" Dad asked, clearly irritated that they've stopped. He's in one hell of a hurry, and he's not happy about being slowed down for questions.

"About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?" Sam demands.

Dad and Sam are facing off, a sight Dean's seen so many times over the years it doesn't even faze him. They've spent more time arguing, fighting each other, being enemies, than actually being father and son.

Dean's always played father and big brother to him, more out of necessity than Sam's choice, though Sam would probably say otherwise. He'd always choose Dean over Dad, Dean's the one that doesn't feel that way. That is, if you asked Sam.

"Sammy, come on, we can Q & A after we kill all the vampires," Dean tries to soothe. He wants answers just as badly, but running Dad off the road, not such a good idea. Temperamental, half cocked, impulsive, and so Dean. Usually. Now, it was all Sam.

Apparently Dad feels the same way.

"Your brother's right. We don't have time for this."

God, how many times he's heard his father say that. How many times he's seen the hurt and anger flash in Sam's eyes as he looked at Dad, and then the betrayal when Dean looked down or away. Not wanting to get in the middle, to betray his feelings.

"Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help. Now, obviously something big is going down and we want to know what!"

Dean watches them both carefully. Sam's right, he agrees completely with his younger brother, but he knows that it's not a good idea to push things now. That eventually, they'll know in the end. And maybe it's better to go in half blind. It makes some things easier, like losing your younger brother to anger and college.

Dad's pissed, he's freaked out about being practically run off the road by his own son, and he's freaked about whatever it is that he's not saying. "Get back in the car," Dad orders.

Sam stands his ground. "No," he says, calm but angry underneath. Always angry underneath.

"I said get back in the damn car," Dad orders again. He's not a patient man. Especially not now, not with Sam gone and the come back. Not with the demon and whatever it is they're chasing now.

"Yeah, and I said no," Sam mouths off. His fists are clenched at his sides, his face set and determined. He's not willing to back down, and Dean knows it. Knows him and Dad well enough to know this could get ugly. Or uglier than it already is anyway.

He's had enough of this now. He wants to get things over with, wants to talk things out with Sam. And he can't do that until Sam backs the hell off.

"All right, you made your point, tough guy. Look, we're all tired, we can talk about this later." He grabs his brother and shoves him back. "Sammy, I mean it, come on."  
He doesn't want his brother getting hurt again, not anymore than he already is. He sure the hell doesn't want to know what's bound to come flying out of Dad's mouth, or Sam's. Because they'll only hurt each other, only hurt Dean more.

Sam hesitates, obviously not agreeing with him, but he relents.

Grumbling, the three Winchesters go to get back in the car. And Dean begins to think maybe they'll get back into their respective cars without any bloodshed when Sam opens his big mouth. Granted, he usually enjoys Sam's mouth, more than he should, but now is not the time for it.

"This is why I left in the first place," he mutters angrily.

Dean winces. There's no way Dad's going to let that one go. No way he can let it go, not indefinitely anyway. His shit with Dad didn't mean he should have left Dean or that he should have shut things down between them. Dean had never been anything but good to Sam, protective and loving.

Those words hurt Dean more than they hurt Dad, whether Sam means for them to or not.

"What'd you say?" Dad demands.

His brother whirls back around, glaring at their father. "You heard me," he snarls.

Oh, yeah. Shit's gonna fly now.

"Yeah, you left. Your brother and me- we needed you. "You walked away, Sam," he shoves Sam back a step. "You walked away!"

Dean's stomach rolls, his heart shattering all over again. Those are the words he's been dying to say all this time to Sam, it's exactly what he's wanted to yell at him over and over again, accusation dripping like acid from his broken voice.

Because it hurts. It hurts like hell.

"Stop it, both of you!" he yells, hoping his voice doesn't sound as weak or as pathetic as it sounds to his own ears. He just wants this to stop. He wants to go back to a time when Sam's leaving was never even an option. When they spent their downtime pranking each other and getting in trouble for their too close ways.

He'd rather hear that yelling, instead of the ragged pain that's so evident in his own voice.

But Sam's angry now, angrier than before and he's not letting it go. Might not even consider it if Dean had the balls to beg him to stop. "You were the one who said 'Don't come back', Dad. You're the one who closed that door, not me! You were just pissed off you couldn't control me anymore!"

Dean winces again. Those words are definitely meant for him too now. Sam's reminding him that he didn't stop that door from slamming shut and locking the moment he stepped foot outside that crap motel room. Reminding him that he's always been the good solider, always done what he's told, when he's told. Without question.

The exact thing that's got them here now, son(s) against father, and brother against brother.  
Dad grabs hold of Sam, sending Dean's heart plummeting. God dammit, why had it come to this? Why couldn't these two just get along for two freakin' minutes without turning this into some all out slug fest.

He shoves in between them, knocking Sam back against the Impala. "I said stop it!," he yells. "Stop it!" They're ignoring him still, his physical presence not enough. "Stop it! That's enough!" He shoves Sam back against the car again as he tries to move forward. Dean looks pleadingly at Sam. Now isn't the time to do this. He knows how badly his brother is hurt, how badly his father is hurt, how fucking badly they all hurt over stupid words that were never meant. But now _isn't the time_. They've got other things to deal with, other battles. Battles he'd much rather face than the one Sam's dead set on finishing.

He tries to show that to Sam in the way he looks at him, the underlying tone in his voice. Sam glares at him and then looks away. He takes that as acceptance, reluctant acceptance, but acceptance. He'll have to remember that later when they're alone and he can tell Sam how he really feels again.

He mouths a soft thank you at his brother, knowing he's still watching, and allows himself one gentle stoke of his thumb against the side of his neck. He knows Dad can't see it, but it sets his heart in an erratic rhythm. Turning back to face Dad, he swallows hard and lets his face empty of any emotion he'd shown Sam. Dad wasn't stupid, and that wasn't a battle they needed to fight now either.

"That means you, too," Dean says, making sure that Sam realizes that he isn't pinning it all on the youngest Winchester. He knows Dad's at fault here too. But it's mostly his for not saying something sooner, for being passive and in some ways to Sam, cold and distant.

Dad just glares at Sam, hardly sparing a glance at his eldest. Even if it is one of the few times Dean's stood up to him, he's sure it's not much of a surprise. This was Sammy he was defending after all, his Sammy.

He stands there silently, soldier stance, his hands fisted in Dad's jacket in case his Winchester temper flares to the surface again, as he waits for him to agree or disagree. To fight or keep moving. He's beginning to wonder if Dad wants to finish this fight as much as Sam does. He tightens his grip on his jacket and clenches his jaw.

Sam's arms slip around him, his hands finding their way underneath his shirt, stroking. Dean's skin is suddenly on fire with every brush of skin on skin. A shudder runs through him, his heart crashing against his ribs as his eyes flutter. He kicks himself mentally, forcing his eyes to remain open and his body still. It isn't easy with Sam's long slender fingers tracing patterns against his stomach.

He'd stop him, but it would only draw more attention to them. Right now Dad's busy glaring at Sam, not watching Dean. At least, that's what he tells himself. Because it can't feel this good to have his younger brother touch him, with Dad only inches away.

He tells himself that it's just the adrenaline from stepping in, that it's just the fact that this is a game to Sam, revenge. Because he hasn't agreed to anything with Sam, has told him they can't do this over and over again since that first kiss.

There's nothing between them, nothing definite. Nothing they need to let Dad know ever happened, because it's not ever going to happen again.

At least, that's what he tells himself. Just as he told himself the kiss hadn't meant anything, that it had been for Sam. To make things better, not worse. Still, none of that stops him from wanting to turn around and crush Sam's lips with his own. That would serve both of them right, his demanding and oblivious father, and his temperamental, sensitive younger brother.

He's sick of being in the middle. He loves them both, but he's tired of their thoughtless actions and words. They're always bringing him in the middle of things, blaming him for never saying anything, never stepping in. Or not siding with one, when he sided with the other. They don't understand that he's got feelings too. That even _Dean fucking Winchester _can be hurt. Especially by them.

They're his family, they're the only ones that matter to him, the only ones that can break him. But they don't understand that. They're too stubborn, too focused on showing the other up. God, even Sammy can't see it.

Dean swallows the bitter resentment burning the back of his throat and slides his hand over Sam's, wrapping his fingers lightly around his wrist. Dad's going to see eventually where Sam's hands are and he has to keep that from happening. Has to protect Sam from that, because he couldn't stop Dad from lashing out, from saying those hateful words that had fueled his brother's anger all those years. _"Don't come back," _who says that to their son? To their baby boy?

Hurt or not, Dad was out of line. He was shutting Sam off from not only himself, but from Dean. And who gave him the right to tear out Dean's heart too? To rip them apart when they've been the only one there for the other? Who was he to help Sam rip out his heart after all he'd done for them, without complaint or regret?

They were both using him, they thought of him as a pawn in some ridiculous war between the other and he wasn't going to put up with that anymore. Sam was going to find that out the hard way if need be. But he wasn't going to tear apart what little they had left to do it. They'd be alone in the car soon enough, and then he'd tell Sam that he wasn't the only fucking one hurting here.

He pulls Sam's wandering hand from the waist of his jeans and gives Dad a push. This staring contest, this pissing match, is over. He's _done_ with it.

Dad finally looks at Dean, sending him a death glare of his own. And Dean doesn't even flinch. He's seen that enough, from Dad _and_ Sam. He's immune to them now, he's spent too many years caring, worrying about those damn looks. He's not going to back down this time, like he's always done out of fear of losing them. It didn't work then and he wasn't going to bother now. He glares back at Dad and gives him another push, waiting for him to leave. Realizing he's not getting anywhere with either boy, he shoots one last glare at Sam and storms off to his truck.

Maturity is a family trait obviously.

Dean's about to turn back to Sam when he pushes him forward, causing him to stumble at first, and then climbs back into the Impala. Apparently he's feeling as rejected by Dean, as by Dad.

"Terrific," Dean gripes, climbing into the passenger seat beside his moody younger brother. This was going to be one hell of a night.

xXx

Sam slams the car into reverse, giving Dad enough room to get out ahead of him and then quickly pulls out behind him. He ignores his brother's glare and angrily watches the taillights of his father's truck as he leads them on yet another hunt, without bothering to tell them a damn thing.

He's sick of this, of their lives, of feeling like all he did was fight with his family. That was what had driven him to cut Dad off, had made him do something as stupid and as reckless as start a fight now when everyone's emotions were running high.

That however, was the point wasn't it? To push until every God damn thing was set out on the table, every unspoken but loudly thought word was shared. To fight it out so that things were back to some semblance of normal. Instead he's made a bigger mess. He's only angrier than before and now he's pissed Dean off too. He has to have made him angry with the touching.

Dean has already made his feelings clear about them. He knows that Dean wants it, if not because he feels something for Sam than because of the physical element between them. That's the only reason he keeps pushing. He feels like maybe Dean feels something, maybe not what Sam feels for him, but something all the same.

He glances over at Dean, startled to find him staring. He looks away quickly, the empty expression on his brother's face sending his stomach to his feet. He hates that look. Its the same look he had on his face when Sam had said he was leaving for Stanford, it was the look that Dean always got when he didn't want anyone to know how he was feeling.

Unfortunately for him, that doesn't apply to Sam. Few things did when it came to Dean.

"I'm sorry," Sam says without looking Dean's way. "I know you said you don't feel that way about me and I shouldn't have pushed it." It had been stupid, but he'd felt like Dean was so far away from him. It was the only way he could think of to feel like Dean was still with him, that he was still his Dean. And it hadn't helped that Dean had stroked a line of fire down his throat as he mouthed his thanks, or that after he had found himself pressed between the sweet heat of Dean's body and the cool metal of the Impala.

"Why did you do it?" Dean asks coolly.

Why? That was a strange question for Dean to be asking. He would have thought it was obvious. It isn't like Sam hasn't told him a thousand times before that he loves him, brotherly and not so brotherly recently.

"What do you mean why?"

"I mean why did you touch me?" he pushes.

Sam snorts. Now that is just a dumb question. Who doesn't want to touch Dean? He's never met a girl, or come to think of it a guy, that didn't want to touch Dean. Why should Sam be any different? Especially since he really knows Dean? "Because I'm weak," Sam half jokes.

"Why, Sam?"

He glances over at Dean and frowns. Why is he so insistent about this question? What answer is he looking for? Swallowing hard he returns his attention to the road. Dean can't want him to say that he loves him again, can he? Last time Dean had looked so torn, almost disgusted. Sam doesn't know if he can take that kind of response again.

"Sam," Dean pushes harshly.

Well, maybe he just doesn't have a choice. Now does he?

"I love you, do I really need another reason?" he asks, holding his breath. Dean can end this now, could tell him how sick he is and to just quit. Because he's angry and when Dean's angry he won't even try and protect Sam from the truth. Maybe that's exactly what he needs.

"No. No, Sam. You don't."

"I don't what?" Confusing much? Can't Dean string together a complete and informative sentence instead of taking every opportunity to scare the hell out of his younger brother?

"Love me."

"I do love you," Sam says. Still confused.

"You know, you keep saying that Sam. You keep saying you love me and that I'm the one pushing you away, that this could work," Dean says angrily.

Yeah, at one point or another Sam's sure he's said that. But not now. Who had brought any of that up?

"But how the fuck do you expect me to believe that when all you do is use me, Sam?" he goes on. "That's not love. I'm not a fucking expert, but even _I _know that's not love, baby brother."

Sam's stunned by Dean's words and it takes him a few minutes to answer. "I, Dean…" he stumbles through his words. "I do love you. I want this to work between us. I'm not using you."

Dean shakes his head. "The hell you aren't."

"Dean, what are you talking about? This isn't about being lonely, this isn't about sex, it's about-"

"Getting even with Dad," Dean supplies. "Yeah, I got that Sammy."

"What? Dean, no!" he half yells. "This isn't about getting even with, Dad. This isn't even _about_ Dad. God, where the hell did that come from?"

"Oh, I don't know, Sam. Maybe when you felt the need to shove your hands practically down my pants with Dad standing two fucking inches from my face! What the hell was that? Some kind of fucking power play? I'm not going to be some God damn pawn in this game. You two can kill each other and leave me the hell out of it. I've put up with too much of it, for too many years."

Sam tightens his grip on the wheel, glancing at his brother for as long as he dares and then refocuses on the dark road before him. In all his life he's never once heard his brother stand up for himself like that, has never once accused either of the other Winchesters of using him or showed any sign of wanting it to stop. He's simply done what he's thought is best for his family.

He's never used his brother intentionally, but he's caught himself more than a few times, no matter how much he wants to deny it. Still, Dean has never said anything and Sam has tried his best to just stop.

As relieved and as thrilled as he is to hear that Dean's finally going to be his own person, is going to finally stop taking crap, it scares the hell out of him too. Because Dean thinks Sam doesn't care about him. That he's spent their lives using him.

"You're right," Sam says, choosing his words carefully. His brother looks startled that he's actually answering, but he ignores it and pushes on. "I have used you and so has Dad; too many times. We never think about your feelings. I hate what we've done to you and I know I can't take those things back, no matter how badly I want to. And you have every right to be mad or to hate me, God, I wouldn't blame you if you do. But don't you ever, _ever, _say that I don't love you again, Dean. Because even I don't deserve that."

"Sammy," Dean says, shaking his head.

"I love you," Sam interrupts. "That's something I'm not going to argue with you. Now or ever. It was stupid for me to do that with Dad right there, but it wasn't about a power play. It felt like you weren't there anymore."

"Like I wasn't there?" he asks, raising a brow.

Sam shrugs. He can't always explain himself and he's not going to bother and try. Especially when Dean's going to push it aside. "It just felt like I needed you closer. I'm sorry for pushing though."

"You shouldn't have done it Sam, it wasn't the right time."

"Yeah, I know that too," Sam snaps defensively. "But its never the right time, is it?"

Dean sighs and slumps down in the seat. "Its always going to be like this, isn't it Sam? We're always going to be at each other's throats, we're always going to hurt each other."

He doesn't answer his brother, knowing that Dean doesn't really expect an answer. There's no simple answer to his question. He knows what he wants the answer to be, he wants it to be no. He wants to turn to Dean and tell him that things are going to be different. That they won't always fight and they won't always hurt each other, but he'd be lying. He knows it as well as Dean does. They've always hurt each other and they probably always will.


End file.
